My mouth instinctively opens as he rubs a finger along the seam of my lips. He trails his hand to the back of my head and grabs a handful of hair, tilting my head so I’m forced to look up at him.
“You’re not a freak,” he tells me, his voice dark with conviction, “and you’re not contaminated. But you are about to be punished like the bad little witch you are.”
“Ooh, Daddy.” I grin up at him. “What are you going to do to me?”
In one swift movement, he claims my mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. His stubble tickles my lips as our tongues dance to the lust percolating between us. I step onto my tiptoes, seeking his warmth, his touch as a man. When he pulls away, his eyes are pools of blood that simmer with hunger.
“Take off your shirt. Now.”
I nod and do as he says without pausing. That’s when I realize the closet has been modified. All the clutter has been moved to one side and there’s candles dotted around the room. A familiar piece of furniture sits in the middle of the floor. Broin must have conjured the bench from his cabin. I keep my eyes trained on the leather straps and start to leisurely undo my buttons.
Broin moves away and busies himself with the candles. The muscles in his back writhe as he uses magic to bring more light to the room. I gulp, watching him work and shrug my shirt to the floor. I didn’t bother putting on any underwear after my shower. I knew Broin would be removing them, preferably with a knife.
“Drape yourself over the bench,” he instructs, his focus still on the candles.
I walk over to the bench, lay flat on the leather surface and throw my arms over the sides. Not a moment later, Broin’s palm is on my ass, lifting my skirt and firmly kneading my skin.
Smack.
The first slap stings so beautifully I let out a gasp.
By the tenth spank, I can barely feel my ass and tears fall from my eyes.
Broin stops to caress my tender skin. “Why are you crying?”
“It just feels so fucking good.”
He scoffs. “It’s not supposed to feel good.” Sliding his hand down my leg, he retrieves my knife from my sock. “It’s supposed to hurt. And mind your manners.”
I grin, closing my eyes to brace myself for the pain. “Sorry, Daddy.”
The tip of the cold blade presses into my thigh. I feel a droplet of blood run down my leg and I moan into the bench. Broin glides the knife up to where his handprint burns on my ass. I wait for him to draw more blood, but after a few moments, I’m yet to feel any pain.
I squirm, deliberately wiggling my ass to entice him.
Another spank, this time so hard that I really whimper.
Broin moves around the bench. I tilt my head to peek at him through my lashes.
Without even looking at me, he asks in a dangerously low voice, “What are you being punished for?”
“I broke the academy’s rules.” The knife presses into my still healing back. I bite down on my lip to suppress my screams. “I… I nearly got expelled.” My voice is breaking, my body trembling under him. He leisurely slides the blade up my spine, hitting every tender bump. “I didn’t listen to you.”
“To who?” he probes, pausing between my shoulder blades.
“Broin Blackstone. My knight.”
He pushes the blade underneath a swollen welt. “Go on, Little Red.”
“My best friend.”
More pressure. More blood. Stars dance over my vision.
“My Daddy,” I add with a pleasurable groan.
His hardened cock brushes my hip. “You know your place. I just wish you knew when to do as you’re told.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue. For a long, painful moment—and not the good kind—he just runs his fingers over my back. He traces the pentagram, the goat’s face, the horns and the sigil all over again, his movements painfully slow, deliberately keeping me on edge.
Then he pierces the knife into the edge of the wound and starts to carve.
My screams are instantaneous. I push my mouth into the bench to strangle them. The leather mixes with the salty tears slipping into the corner of my mouth.
With one hand tightening around my neck, his other hard at work on my back, Broin keeps retracing the sigil. Again and again. It’s like he’s trying to cut Lucifer’s mark out from my flesh, even though we both know that’s impossible. Once Lucifer claims one of his children, there’s no going back. And right now, I’ve never been so thankful for him giving me this mark. Broin hacking into it like a cut of meat is the most erotic, pleasurable sensation in the world.
A scream escapes my compressed lips and Broin twists the knife harder. Deeper. My blood oozes down my back, between my legs and around my ankles. It’s fucking amazing and I’m delirious. The pain washes away my filthy blood. My darkness, in that moment, is tamed for a while. Sometimes when the pain is severe, it no longer exists. Just like it’s doing now. It always comes back, though; that’s why they call us the Cursed Ones.
Life is such a beautiful and barbaric thing.
Broin yanks the knife out, and I scream. “What did I say about manners?”
“S…sorry, Daddy. Thank you for punishing me.”
Broin shoves his fingers between my legs and pries my lower lips open. “It’s what you deserve for disobeying me. For breaking the school rules. For disappointing your Daddy.”
Pleased to find that I’m indeed wet, he slaps my pussy hard, then eases a finger inside. He leans down and nibbles the side of my ear, his other hand still on my throat. Choking me. Tormenting me.
Ecstasy builds in the pit of my body. It spreads through my chest and into my toes. Broin rubs my clit with his thumb while kissing my ear, my neck, nipping my skin. I close my eyes, my heart rate accelerating in my ears, and curl my toes.
Just when the spine-tingling pleasure starts to cloud my mind, Broin pulls back, causing my orgasm to vanish instantly.
I let out a frustrated cry. But this is my punishment.
Bad girls don’t get to cum.
Broin repeats his torment three times more, each time forcing me to grow more pathetically desperate. I’m panting and flushed and so agitated I can scarcely think when he steps back. I crane my neck to watch him walk around the bench, skimming a finger down my leg as he does so. He lowers himself down and taps my inner thigh.
“Open.”
I comply, praying to Satan he’ll show mercy.
He doesn’t.
And deep down I fucking love that.
In place of his fingers, he uses his tongue to tease my pussy. His stubble scratching my sensitive skin feels utterly amazing. I puncture my teeth into the bench, my moans vibrating through the leather.
“You have a busy night ahead of you,” Broin murmurs, his breath tickling my lips. “Are you prepared?”
I writhe on the bench, holding the sides to support my arms. “I need to ask Him for His help, Daddy.”
“I know you do.” A long, slow lick, from my pussy all the way up to the small of my back. “I’ll take you to the hidden door I found today. It will halve your journey to the altar.” His tongue circles my clit, flicking the little nub in a way that drives me wild.
Again he stops, the bastard, and again I groan.
He’s bringing me to the edge of orgasm only to deny me release. It suddenly makes me regret acting like a bitch today.
“You’re always one step ahead,” I breathe, subtly pushing my pussy into his face. “Thank you for looking out for me, Daddy.”
He laughs and I imagine him flashing a grin. “When you take our Dark Lord’s cock tonight, I want you to think of me.” He shoves three of his fingers into my pussy, harshly pressing against the sweet spot buried inside. “I want you to remember who your Daddy is. Who controls your body as well as your heart.”
That familiar, toe-curling sensation builds again, making me feel as though I’m about to explode over the bench. I clench my thighs, close my eyes, and wait for the release to wash over me. But it doesn’t. Of course it do
esn’t. Broin pulls his fingers out at the last second, straightens to look at me, and wipes my arousal on my face.
“Have you learned your lesson now, Little Red?”
With an exasperated sigh, I let my arms flop down in defeat. “Yes, Daddy Broin.”
“Good.” He gives my pussy a sharp spank. “Time to get you cleaned up.”
A rapid warmth floods through me.
The blood seeps back into my veins, stitching the wound together, but not completely. Broin knows I love to feel my wounds heal gradually. He eases me off the bench and I nearly collapse when my feet touch the floor. The pain, the moments of purity as a result of it, feel incredible. Broin grabs my shirt off the floor and helps me into it. I almost want to giggle when he does up the buttons.
I watch him pop them all into place, wondering why he chose to open Lucifer’s mark before punishing me. Was he feeling a little possessive?
Before he pulls away, I take his hand in mine. “You’re the only family I’ve got left, Broin. I won’t ever abandon or lose you. Please know that.”
Broin frowns for a moment, his eyes switching between mine. I watch his pulse flicker in his throat as he swallows nervously.
He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ears. “As Satan is my witness, nothing on this earth will stop me from protecting you. I will always be your knight. I will always belong to you.”
I smile at him, my heart swelling with a riot of emotions. “Thank you, Daddy. Now where’s this magical door you were talking about?”
I know my students.
I’ve been headmaster at Everafter for nearly ten years, and in that time, I’ve seen all of the misbehavior and heard all of the excuses. Redera Hemlock is a troublemaker, and unless I miss my guess, she’s the sort to slip out of her dormitory after curfew. She’s already broken two rules today. Breaking a third would give her a trifecta.
I don’t appreciate her obvious rebelliousness. I’m willing to put part of it down to the recent murder of her family, because that would certainly make anyone’s head spin. But I don’t think that’s the root cause of her defiance. I think it’s something about the girl herself, something much deeper, more personal.
She has darkness in her blood. I don’t need to use any magic to see that. She shimmers with power, as well, which is disconcerting in a witch so young. She has secrets upon secrets, this girl.
Well… Don’t we all.
I wait in the darkness after curfew and watch the hidden door at the side of the castle. It’s a squat, square maintenance access hatch that’s hidden behind a dense ornamental shrub. By now, I’ve learned all of the sneaky entrances and exits. I know this school and all of its buildings, from which floorboards squeak to which bricks conceal hiding places. I’ve ordered some of the tunnels and escape hatches to be sealed up. But I’ve left some, too, partially because I think the students benefit from being able to rebel in safe and controlled ways.
Using doors I know to break curfew so they can hook up with other students? Minor infractions in the greater scheme of things, but it gives them confidence to think they’re putting one over on me… until I show up at their illicit rendezvous and prove that I’m not as blind as they think I am. I’ll give them rope, but not enough to hang themselves.
Hanging is obviously a tender subject where Miss Hemlock is concerned. I know what happened to her family and I know who did it. Witch hunting is not an isolated profession in this part of the world. Ever since the Silva War, the Queen of Fantasia—the largest kingdom in the bright half of the Great Forest, where Everafter is located—has encouraged her men-at-arms to hunt down and destroy Darkbloods. She even created a so-called knighthood, the Falcon Knights, who are little more than armored thugs who ride the countryside hunting witches. Their methods are violent and horrifying, but even they can’t rival the group that killed Redera’s family.
The hunters who destroyed the Hemlocks were in fact wolves. The Rosso Lupa Pack are the stuff of nightmares to people all across Draoich and the Western Forest. They’re even harder to bear once you get to know them. The attack on the Hemlock cottage had all of the hallmarks of a Rosso Lupa raid.
I should know. I’ve seen them operate up close.
The door that I’ve been watching slowly opens. I make myself one with the shadows and watch carefully. Hemlock emerges, clad in a scarlet-red cloak. She looks around but doesn’t see me. She’s satisfied that she’s alone and trots off through the gate and out toward the forest.
Why is a young girl going into the forest alone in the dead of night?
No good will come of it, I’m certain. There are hundreds of things that she might encounter in the darkness, even on this “blessed” side of the Great Forest. She could very well be walking into a danger that she can’t walk out of.
Knowing the chances of this are high, I follow her. I use my wand to activate the Soundless Passing spell on my boots, allowing me to walk through the underbrush almost silently. Hemlock doesn’t hear me. She keeps walking and I keep following.
Her path is long and arduous. She goes deep into the wood, almost to the edge of the Black Ravine, and I realize where she’s headed. The girl turns before she reaches that scar in the earth’s face and heads north. I follow her until she reaches a clearing ringed with standing stones. In the center of the clearing is a stone altar with grooves carved around its edges to catch and direct sacrificial blood. The darkest of dark magic is practiced in this place. They call it the Devil’s Altar.
I know better than to step inside the circle. I can feel the dark magic that emanates from the cold granite and it makes me shiver. I sense a powerful evil approaching and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. Hemlock seems unbothered, though, and her face is almost serene as she turns to face a black cloud that flutters into the circle to join her. I crouch behind the underbrush, watching but trying not to be seen.
The cloud swirls around the altar, then solidifies into a single column of darkness right in front of the girl. The stench of sulfur is intense and it stings my nose. It’s all I can do not to cough. She lifts her chin and watches as the column transforms into a man in a golden robe. But this is no ordinary man. He radiates stunning amounts of power and evil and my heart is beating so hard I wonder if they can hear it in the clearing.
The man turns and walks slowly around the altar while she speaks to him. Underneath his open robe, he’s naked. He also has the legs of a goat with cloven hooves that leave scorched prints everywhere he steps.
I know who this powerful entity is, and the thought that I’m actually looking upon the Fallen One is nearly incomprehensible.
He stops circling and takes her face in his hand. Their mouths move though I can’t hear a single word. There’s an obvious tension between them, but not the kind that comes from arguing. Theirs is the kind that comes from trying not to ravage one another senseless. The sexual spark between the two is palpable and I’m already hard. My dick is throbbing. I try to ignore it, but that’s a fight I’m destined to lose.
Hemlock smiles, and it’s the filthiest smile I’ve ever seen. Or maybe it just inspires me to want to do dirty things. It seems to have affected Satan the same way, because he seizes her in his arms and kisses her, hard. He turns her around and bends her over the altar, and… I move around the clearing to get a better view.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I’ve never been a voyeur before, but when he bends Hemlock over the altar and pulls her skirt up to her waist, I can’t tear my eyes away. He dumps his robe on the ground. His rampant erection is enormous and he wastes no time with subtlety or foreplay before he buries it in her quivering flesh. I wince, thinking how much that penetration has to hurt, and Hemlock gasps, but then she lets out a moan that makes my own cock twitch.
I find myself wishing it was me buried up to the hilt in her tight cunt.
As soon as I have that thought, I try to force it away.
She’s one of my students! What am I thinking?
I give in to impulse and unbutton my pants. My own erection springs forth and I take it in my hand. At that moment, Satan’s glowing golden eyes turn in my direction and he grins. He changes his angle so I can see his cock sinking into her dripping pussy. I should be horrified—disgusted—but I’m not. I watch his thrusts and the way the ferocity of his fucking rocks her whole body.
This is agony.
He grins and alters his angle again, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her feet off the ground so he can rail her pussy. He’s pushing the air out of her in gasps and my hand is rubbing my cock in time with the pistoning that he’s laying down. She screams, her passion tumbling from her throat. He slams into her once, twice, and then he’s cumming, too. I can see his heavy balls contracting as he pumps her full of his seed.
The sounds, the smells, the sight… It’s all too much.
I shoot my load over the bushes, my legs contracting and breaths coming out rapid. I want to be him. I want to be buried in that hot little body, filling her cunt with my spunk. I want to be the one to make her scream like that, the one leaving handprint bruises on her hip bones.
I want to own this girl.
A voice speaks in my head. So own her.
Satan pulls free and puts her back on her feet. He smacks her on the ass and gathers up his robe. I try to hide, but it’s useless. I know he knows I’m here. I just need to make sure that Hemlock doesn’t see me. Satan vanishes into smoke and I’m left crouched here like an oversexed teenager, my dripping cock still hard in my hand, my heart pounding with need.
The need for her.
It takes me a long moment to gather myself. I withdraw my handkerchief from my pocket and wipe my fingers and cock with it, cleaning away my jizz before I tuck myself back into my trousers. I need to concentrate. I need to remember who I am and why I came here. I’m the headmaster of Everafter Academy. Hemlock is my student. My goal had not been to spy on her having sex with the Devil—the Devil!—and whack off to it. It was to learn what Redera Hemlock is up to, and I certainly have my answer now.
Once Upon A Wolf: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 1) Page 12
